


Sherlock Holmes and the Mysterious Piercing

by Lorelei_Lee



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: First Time, Genital Piercing, Licking, M/M, Secrets, coming nearly untouched, secrect piercing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-08
Updated: 2016-12-08
Packaged: 2018-09-07 06:49:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,130
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8787886
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lorelei_Lee/pseuds/Lorelei_Lee
Summary: John discovers by chance that Sherlock has a piercing. To his surprise John can't stop thinking about it...





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Luna218](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Luna218/gifts).
  * A translation of [Sherlock Holmes und das geheimnisvolle Piercing](https://archiveofourown.org/works/7227697) by [Lorelei_Lee](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lorelei_Lee/pseuds/Lorelei_Lee). 



> Translation by [Luna218](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Luna218/pseuds/Luna218)
> 
>  Thank you!!!!
> 
> I know that piercings don't cause problems at the security gates... but... for the sake of the story... *gg*  
> I got he idea to this silly little one shot because of sharing some headcanons with starrysummer-nights on tumblr during June 2016.

[ **https://68.media.tumblr.com/6142ce7ddbaf9e1d0f4771b7a46c2f13/tumblr_ohuazoJYJA1rdja6so1_500.jpg** ](https://68.media.tumblr.com/6142ce7ddbaf9e1d0f4771b7a46c2f13/tumblr_ohuazoJYJA1rdja6so1_500.jpg)

 

 

  
  


**Sherlock Holmes and the Mysterious Piercing**

  
  


“John! What’s keeping you so long?” Sherlock indignantly called over his shoulder.

“I’m coming! I’m coming!” John retorted breathlessly while trying to keep up with the much quicker pace of his flatmate, friend and colleague.

It had only been about an hour since Mycroft had called but miraculously they had already arrived at London City Airport. Of course, Sherlock had not yet deemed it necessary to let John in on all the details. He never did. He’d just called out excitedly: “That could get really interesting! John! Don’t forget your passport. We’re flying to Madrid this instant. The next flight leaves in one hour and thirty-five minutes. There’s no time for packing, Mycroft arranged for us to pick up the tickets at the counter.”

The prospect of escaping the moist and foggy weather that hung over London in November, and changing it for a milder climate – if only for a day – was so tempting that John had followed Sherlock into the night without question. Just like he always did.

After leaving the car Mycroft had provided them with, they were now running through the terminal to the counter where their tickets were waiting for them. When John, who was completely out of breath, finally managed to catch up with Sherlock. He was already talking to a young woman, whose smile seemed somewhat forced at this time of night. After some discussion, they were given their tickets and took their place in the queue for security checks. Fortunately, there were very few people waiting in line and most of them appeared to be over-tired businessmen.

“Wouldn’t have thought we’d still make it,” John remarked with a final glance at his watch before he took it off and placed it into the black plastic container handed to him by the security personnel. 

“A little more faith, John,” Sherlock said with a wry smile and John grinned.

“Coat and scarf, too,” the security officer droned and looked at Sherlock in a way that was both impatient and insulting, as if he understood Sherlock’s clothing as a personal slight. “Phones and tablets into a separate box,” he grumbled at both men and threw them an _Is it really that hard?_ -look.

In the end, John went through the security gate first. The officer nodded and John let out an involuntary sigh of relief. Everything was fine. No beep. Even all his belongings had survived the check without being harmed or causing problems. Just when John put his jacket back on, the metal detector behind him went off.

“Oh, Sherlock, no!” he called out, annoyed and turned around to look at his friend, who was standing in the beeping gate with a slightly confused expression on his face. He was surrounded by security officers and John did not like the look on their faces. “We don’t have time! What did you forget this time? Your keys?” John’s eyes wandered over his friend’s slender form and he frowned. As always, Sherlock was wearing a shirt that was much too tight and trousers that were made to fit. No, that couldn’t be it. For once, Sherlock could not have forgotten anything in his trouser pockets. It would have been obvious. Very obvious.

Suddenly, Sherlock’s face lit up and he said, as if in passing: “That’ll be my piercing. I must have forgotten to take it out in all that hurry.”

A piercing? John stopped short. Had he heard that right? A piercing? Unconsciously, he stared at Sherlock’s chest, where the buds of his nipples were slightly pressing against the fabric of the shirt. No, he definitely wasn’t pierced there. Even before John could finish his thoughts, the officers asked Sherlock to follow them into a room that was slightly out of view.

“But I’ve told you already, it is just a piercing. Nothing that could help me in an attack on Europe or…” Sherlock tried to argue.

John groaned. “Sherlock… just go with them and, for once in your bloody life, keep your mouth shut!” he hissed at his friend. “We don’t have time for your usual drama.”

“You should really listen to your friend,” one of the officers advised, and indicated the room again with some force. “Let’s go; and no funny business, alright?” 

Sherlock rolled his eyes, sniffed in dismay and walked into the designated direction with his head held high. Three officers followed him. When the door was shut behind the four men, John took a deep breath. He straightened his shirt, ran his fingers through his hair, looked at his watch without really seeing the time, searched the walls for a flight plan display, found them and stared at them without looking.

It had to be a genital piercing.

“That’s none of your business, John” he murmured quietly to himself. “It’s absolutely none of your business.”

So it was a genital piercing that was none of his business and that had no right to cause him such… feelings. Sherlock was his friend, for God’s sake! His colleague, his flatmate, his… mate. John pulled a face. Mate! Oh my God, now that really sounded absolutely ridiculous. Sherlock wasn’t a…  _mate_ . Above all, he wasn’t  _his mate_ . Sherlock was nobody’s  _mate_ .

“Pull yourself together, John,” her rambled on. “It’s just a piercing in his…”

In just that moment Sherlock stepped out of the room, completely unfazed if a bit sulky. Alone. John breathed out. That was a good sign. It meant they could continue their journey. His brain picked up the unfinished thought: A piercing in his… John’s eyes automatically dropped to Sherlock’s crotch. Immediately, he pulled his head back up and, feeling guilty, turned his back on his friend. He felt heat rise to his face. Christ! He was a doctor, a soldier. He would not blush like a teenager right now. So Sherlock had a piercing in his… yes, where, exactly? Penis, scrotum, glans or… WHATEVER. It didn’t matter at all where the damn thing was. It was of no consequence which intimate body part had been touched by a stranger to…

Angry about himself, John ground his teeth and almost didn’t notice that Sherlock was picking up his belongings. Just when his friend brushed past him in his billowing coat, John finally came back to his senses.

“Don’t fall asleep, John. The plane won’t wait for us!”

 

**oooOoooOoooOoooOooo**

  
  


Of course, their flight was delayed. While they were waiting for boarding to start, Sherlock was angrily tapping away on his phone and John’s thoughts kept revolving around…

“You have questions,” Sherlock interrupted John’s unspoken considerations.

“What? Me? Whatever gave you that…” John stammered very unconvincingly, even to his own ears, only to be interrupted by Sherlock yet again.

“What gave me that idea? Do you really want me to bore you with a string of the obvious signs?” Sherlock made a deliberate pause, side-eyed John meaningfully and returned his attention to his phone.

“Okay,” John gave in and cleared his throat because he had a feeling that his voice sounded somewhat hoarse. “Okay,” he repeated and tried to bring some order into the chaos of his own thoughts. However, he failed miserably and wasn’t even able to form one reasonable sentence. Finally, he decided to go for the next best thing he could come up with. “Why? I mean… _why_?”

“It adds further appeal to… masturbation,” Sherlock remarked without looking up. A small smile was playing across his face that seemed completely out of place to John; and just like that, Sherlock’s attention was restricted to his phone again. All the while, John tried dealing with the information that he had just received like the grown-up man that he was; but it was completely in vain.

 

**OooOoooOoooOoooOooo**

 

More than 24 hours later, John lay in his bed in a multiple stars hotel, completely exhausted and bleary-eyed, yet unable to go to sleep.

How could that have happened to him? Okay, he knew exactly what had happened. Right after their arrival in Spain, they had met with the secretary of the British Embassy, who told them about his problems. Sherlock soon found a suspect, the following search for clues, and later proof, had kept them busy for the rest of the night as well as the following morning. Afterwards they had spent hours locating the suspect but finally, they had been able to capture him after a breathless hunt through the city’s harbour. The culprit had been handed over to the police, confessions and statements had been delivered and filed, and Sherlock had paid for two single rooms in this luxury hotel. However, John suspected that the credit card he had used to settle the bill carried Mycroft’s name… but he couldn’t have cared less. All he wanted was a hot shower and a comfortable bed.

He had already successfully completed the shower and was now lying in the bed, which was very comfortable indeed – but he couldn’t settle down. The worst thing was, he knew exactly why. The memory alone was enough to make heat rise to his cheeks and he was unbearably ashamed of himself. How had it been possible to be so distracted that they both almost…

The door to his room flew open and Sherlock stood there, dressed in a bathrobe, his feet bare on the threshold.

“Sherlock! What… Has something happened?!”

“Yes, indeed,” Sherlock replied without feeling, stepped into the room and closed the door. “I never thought that I’d say this but tonight you risked both our lives.”

John snorted to hide his embarrassment because Sherlock was right. He was more than right. “That’s rich, coming from you!”

A knowing smile sat on the corner of Sherlock’s mouth but he kept it in check. “Should I have done anything… risky… on one or two occasions in the past, it only happened because I knew that I could rely on you… that you would keep anything truly disastrous from happening to us,” Sherlock shot back.

“On one or two occasions?” John shouted angrily. “Are you kidding me?”

“That’s irrelevant,” was all Sherlock said to dismiss John’s objection. “What _is_ relevant, however, is that you were distracted!”

“I had a cramp in my calf!” John repeated the lie he had already told the police earlier.

Sherlock shot him a long glance before he took a deep breath. “There was no cramp. You were distracted because you kept thinking about my piercing. Had I known that my sexuality would disturb your neat little boring heterosexual world view, I wouldn’t have bothered you with the knowledge,” he countered with slicing precision.

Even though Sherlock stood in front of him like the very image of revenge, and even though John was more than aware of his own fault, he could think of nothing else than the fact that Sherlock was obviously naked under his robe. Just a small gap in the white fluffy fabric would be enough for John to finally find out if it was a 'Prince Albert' piercing Sherlock’s glans and urethra or something else entirely. John’s eyes were fixed on Sherlock’s nether regions without him realising it.

Sherlock followed John’s gaze and the look in his eyes went furious. “You really want to know then, yeah?!” he hissed, annoyed. “It’s a 'Guiche', in my perineum. Are you happy now? Yes? Brilliant! Now you can add sexual perversion to the freak-list, too.”

“Guiche…,” John repeated quietly, in an almost reverent tone. Suddenly, his blood was pulsing hotter and quicker, gathering in his groin, throbbing.

Sherlock studied John’s face, his posture, the slow blinking of his eyelids, the slight dent in the duvet in a particularly telling region… “You… you aren’t really repulsed by it,” he realised with surprise, “It… it turns you on!”

“What? No!” John lied anew. Sherlock’s sharp deductions had ripped him out of his sweet dreams and John asked himself how he could forget that Sherlock had still been in the same room? _Distracted_ … what an understatement! Something in Sherlock’s eyes warned him of what was coming next. He gripped his duvet in panic but it was no good. In just a few long strides Sherlock had reached the bed and yanked the blanket out of John’s hands with a determined pull.

Some of his blood immediately shot up to John’s cheeks. However, a much more significant amount was still ensuring that a certain part of his anatomy formed an obvious bulge in his underpants. (John had decided to put on a newly purchased pair after his shower to make up for the lack of pyjamas. He was grateful for that, even though it didn’t really help him.) John closed his eyes tightly and gave in to the inevitable… it was too late to hide his hard-on under the duvet again. And it would look even more ridiculous if he tried to cover his arousal with his hands. So John gathered all his remaining composure and waited for the vicious mockery, the painful deductions and the merciless sarcasm that would leave Sherlock’s mouth any minute now.

John waited.

Why was that taking so long? Why did Sherlock not get it over with, to then leave him alone with his shame and a bad conscience?

Carefully, John blinked and risked a peek at Sherlock, who was still standing next to the bed as if frozen. He was still holding the duvet in his hand. Transfixed, he was staring at John’s erection.

“I think… a… demonstration would be appropriate,” Sherlock finally said.

“A… what?” John asked, uncomprehending.

“I’m sure you’d like to see it,” Sherlock continued incoherently, if a bit more enthusiastic.

“See?” John said again, still not understanding what was going on, until finally, realisation dawned on him. “Your… piercing?”

“What else?” Sherlock retorted in a mildly mocking tone. “Do keep up, John. If only for just today. Of course, I’m talking about my piercing. What else? Would you like to see it?”

“God, yes!” John gasped without thinking.

Sherlock smiled, satisfied. “And afterwards… when you have… examined it thoroughly – your opinion as a doctor is very valuable to me – maybe a small demonstration would indeed be appropriate…” He casually started to fumbling with the belt on his robe. “I can imagine my experiences in masturbation might be of interest for you.”

For a moment, there was complete silence. Both men eyed each other... almost devoured each other with their looks. John almost believed that the air between them started to bristle. Breathing became difficult for him and Sherlock’s chest was also rising and falling quicker now than was usual for him.

John licked his lips and broke the silence with a husky voice. “What exactly are you waiting for? You could have been naked and in my bed for ages now.”

Sherlock’s smile deepened, grew darker, hotter and seductive. He sighed quietly, sounding content. “Always straight to the point. That’s my John.” The slender fingers loosened the belt on the bathrobe and the exquisite fabric slid down Sherlock’s body with a soft brushing sound, gathering at his feet like a white wave. Mere seconds ago John had wished for nothing else than seeing Sherlock… marvelling at his nudity... But now, strangely enough, it wasn’t important to him anymore. Just like the bathrobe had done a moment ago, John’s eyes were now sliding over pale skin, over two small rosy nipples, the slender legs, the fine line of hair that started just below his navel and ended above a beautiful half-hard erection.

But compared to Sherlock’s words, all of that lost its meaning.

“ _My John_ ,” Sherlock had said. John had no problem, absolutely no problem at all with that. _My_ John. It sounded wonderful.

“Say it again,” he requested and Sherlock softly put his hand on John’s cheek, so that for a moment, John forgot to breathe and drowned in those mercury eyes, that looked at him with so much warmth.

“My John,” Sherlock repeated quietly, then bent down and kissed him… long, tender… soft… warm… sweet… with his lips closed. Chaste and sinful and promising. Without breaking the kiss, Sherlock knelt on the bed, took John’s hand and guided it between his legs, past his testicles and further until…

A hungry sigh brushed across John’s lips as his fingers touched the small metal ring with a tiny ball. Carefully, he felt for the channel and moved the ring slightly. He felt a shudder pass through Sherlock’s body and paused.

“That good?” he asked quietly. Sherlock nodded silently. His dark curls tickled John’s cheek, his breath felt hot and wet on John’s throat.

There was a soft brush of full, warm lips to John’s ear, and then Sherlock disentangled himself from him. He still knelt next to John, his legs spread on the mattress, John’s hand still between his thighs. For a moment, his teeth buried themselves in his lower lip.

“Pull it,” he demanded huskily.

“Sure?” John asked.

Sherlock nodded and wet his lips. “Pull it... and see what happens.”

John had absolutely no response to Sherlock’s half-arrogant smile which was paired with a wicked look from under long lashes. He took the ring between his thumb and forefinger and pulled, soft but steady. The effect was spectacular.

Sherlock arched his back, his whole body stretched and shuddered, and a long, pleasurable moan left his throat. His hips jerked, his erection was growing and twitching. A drop of clear fluid gathered at the tip of his hard shaft.

“Fuck,” John whispered, completely in awe.

“Again!!” Sherlock demanded.

“So that’s what you do when you…” John wanted to know and swallowed desperately. His throat was suddenly very dry and his hard penis reminded him of its existence by pulsing between his legs.

“That, too,” Sherlock replied curtly. “John! Again!”

Whining? No, John wouldn’t react to that. “Aha,” he said and used his fingertips to play with the ring until Sherlock whimpered. “ _That, too_ ? So you do other things as well?” he asked as if he possessed all the patience in the world.

A look of anger, that contained a hint of recognition, hit him. But then a truly devilish expression appeared on Sherlock’s face as he bowed down to John. “Usually,” he whispered with his lips close to John’s ear, “usually I attach one or more weights to it. I have several at home. Sometimes I use a chain, so they can swing freely… with every move… while I’m on my hands and knees… that is… an indescribable feeling… unsettling… with extremely intense… orgasms…”

Now it was John’s turn to whimper. The image Sherlock had created in front of his inner eye was overwhelmingly exciting, erotic, obscene. The thought alone – Sherlock on all fours, one hand between his legs, frantically rubbing his hard cock... and between trembling thighs, behind his sensitive, full testicles… his piercing and on it a short chain with a shimmering weight at its end, swinging heavily like a pendulum… every movement a new impulse of lust, of ecstasy…

A sense of yearning rose within John... of unquenchable want. He grabbed Sherlock, pushed him backwards on the bed, pressed his legs apart and lay down between them. “Okay?” he asked, his voice rough and pleading.

Sherlock looked at him with eyes wide open that were dark with lust. He nodded. “Yes…,” he whispered, and the sound of his deep voice brushed over John’s skin like silk.

“Okay,” John said half to himself, carefully lifted Sherlock’s balls, lowered his head and licked across the shining ring. Sherlock uttered a small, sharp cry of surprise and spread his legs even further. John wrapped his lips around the piercing and softly sucked at the skin there. Sherlock’s throaty breathing was music to John’s ears and he suckled a little more.

One hand shakily sought out his head to grab his hair and John stopped sucking. Instead, he licked at the soft, hot skin with his flat tongue. He used the tip of his tongue to toy with the ring until Sherlock’s hand disappeared again and he was now clearly busy getting himself off.

John found it impossible to say how long he had spent crouching between Sherlock’s legs to deal with the piercing. He didn’t know how often he’d sucked on it, teased it with the tip of his tongue or just licked it – but he had never thought that he would enjoy it that much. If Sherlock’s never-ending sighs and moans were anything to go by, he seemed to find more than a little pleasure in John’s ministrations, and when the indefinite sounds that had escaped his throat so far turned into obvious begging, John knew that it wouldn’t take much longer.

“Oh God, John… that’s… that’s… oh my God… yes, do that again… yes… suck on it… some more… more… Oooooh… Mmmmmh… Mmmh… Mmh…”

John’s own hips were trying to gain some relief by humping and pressing into the soft mattress. Never in his life had he been so aroused. Never before had he sought an orgasm as passionately as he did in that moment. Soon… he promised himself. Soon… after Sherlock finished.

Sherlock’s legs started trembling and his whole body stretched while the movements of his hand grew quicker and quicker.

Without a warning, John took the ring between his teeth and pulled.

He felt the first twitch… felt Sherlock hold his breath… and pulled again.

“Aaaaaaah! Yes! Yes! Yes!” Sherlock shouted and his whole body seemed to pulse with ecstasy. 

John raised himself and caught a glimpse of the last bit of come as it ran down Sherlocks fingers. His other hand was still busy pulling his nipples.

John used his own hand to steady himself over Sherlock’s body, his other hand hastily pushed down his underpants. He grabbed his aching erection and before he could do much else than just holding his cock in his hand, his orgasm burst out of him. Just like that.

It should have been embarrassing to come like that, without friction, without any kind of touch, and yet it had been so very hot. John knelt over Sherlock’s sweaty, naked body and held his pulsing manhood in his hand. His semen mixed with Sherlock’s come and he looked up at John as if he’d never had a greater experience in his life.

Once the fireworks in his nervous system had settled down, John’s arm gave out and he collapsed on the mattress like a felled tree. He landed half next to/half on top of Sherlock, but the other man didn’t seem to be bothered by it. Instead, he pulled him closer into his arms.

“You did that on purpose, didn’t you?” John rumbled against Sherlock’s shoulder.

“Hm?”

“You _forgot_ to take out your piercing on purpose,” he clarified.

Sherlock’s fingers painted circles on John’s back. “Possibly,” he admitted.

“You couldn’t even take me out on a normal date, hu?” John asked. “The cinema? A walk in the park? Dinner at Angelo’s, for all I care?”

“But that’s what we’ve been doing all along, John,” Sherlock explained. “and since the third date usually means sex…”

“You’ve read Cosmo again,” John complained. “I’ve told you a hundred times…”

But Sherlock was incorrigible. “I thought that, after 38 dates, it was finally time to do something about that sex thing.”

“38?” John wanted to shout out but a yawn kept him from it. “What all did you count as a date, you pillock?”

“I have a spreadsheet at home. I can show you if you like.”

John sighed, defeated. “Of course you have a spreadsheet. But: The murder of the cinema technician does not count as a movie night,” he clarified. “And a chase through Hyde Park is not a romantic walk.” He paused, thinking. “On the other hand… in a completely twisted way it totally makes sense. Maybe they were dates.”

“Told you so!” Sherlock stated in his usual I-new-I-was-right-from-the-start kind of tone.

“Alright, alright,” John conceded. “Now I really just want to know one more thing. How long do you have this piercing already?”

“Even though it might hurt your ego, I’ve had it made a long time ago. Long before our time together.”

“Mmmmh…,” John hummed and was close to falling asleep.

“But another piercing might be a real win. I was thinking about an 'Apadravya'. They say it stimulates the partner’s prostate exceedingly…”

“For you or for me?” John asked, sleepy but not disinterested.

“We can talk about that later,” Sherlock said. “Sleep now, John.” Once again that wicked little smile played across his face as he tenderly kissed John’s temple.

  
  


**OooOoooOoooOoooOooo**

**THE END**

**OooOoooOoooOoooOooo**

  
  


[ https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Apadravya ](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Apadravya)

  
  


<https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Guiche_piercing>

  


<https://static.wixstatic.com/media/8a35d6_e2d9301f03a84dd2ad2dbb4ddd019e0f.jpg/v1/fill/w_458,h_611,al_c,lg_1,q_80/8a35d6_e2d9301f03a84dd2ad2dbb4ddd019e0f.jpg>

  
  


 


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